The Red Waltz: A Hellsing Fairytale
by blot-monath
Summary: It's clear Integra Hellsing doesn't get out much. Walter's plan to remedy that doesn't go quite as expected. Based on the manga/Hellsing Ultimate. Rated T for the time being, M will surely follow - I dunno where I'm going with this, haha! - First fic, give me sweet, delicious feedback. I CRAVE IT. Don't be TOO gentle with me, now. ;P


Chapter One: Wine and Spirits

"Walter, another glass," Sir Integra Hellsing ordered as she fumbled tiredly, a cigar in one hand and a match in the other. As she lifted the tightly-wound tobacco to her lips and lit the tip, her butler protested.

"But you've already polished off a whole bot-"

"_Another glass, _Walter."She glared at him through her spectacles as the old gentleman sheepishly hurried off to the wine cellar. "I'm a grown woman, I can drink and smoke as much as I please_, damn it,_" she mumbled through the cigar clenched tightly between her teeth.

The hour was late, and the leader of the Hellsing Organization was exhausted and just a wee bit intoxicated. Reams of paperwork lay before her, demanding her attention – statistics, letters, bills, memos, invitations, solicitations, ammunition orders – even for a workhorse like her, it was too great an amount to handle. The sweet red wine and rich cigarillos could only do so much, after all. Overwhelming as it was, Integra decided the best course of action was to keep pushing through; perhaps she could get a third of it done by sunrise.

Just as she was mulling over the best way to address a letter to a Hellsing member's widow, Walter returned from the cellar.

"Sir, I'm sorry to say that the wine cellar is empty. I checked every shelf, there's no wine to be found in the place."

"Did you check the backroom?"

"Yes ma'am, not a drop there either."

Integra took a puff of her cigar, eyeing Walter with suspicion. She reached for a small, dusty drawer near the bottom of her desk and tugged it open. "No matter, I have—now where is my scotch?"

Walter grimaced, knowing full well what was coming next. "You drank it all last week, ma'am. You were quite stressed, as I recall."

A look of fury painted her face. "_Damn it,_ Walter, why didn't you get more?! You've seen how much work I've had lately! Do you think my job is _easy_?"

"Not at all, Miss. It's just that…well, with all the extra stress you've been experiencing lately, you've been drinking far more than is the norm for you. You've been up at all hours of the night_, every night._ The extra cigars can't be good, either. Frankly, I'm a bit worried for your health, Sir Integra. You need to stop pushing yourself so hard and relax a bit."

"Oh?" Integra scoffed. "Me? _Relax?_ My job is far too important for that! If I slack off to any degree, people could _die_, Walter. Britain needs Hellsing to be ready for anything, at any time." She snuffed out her cigar in irritancy and grabbed a pen, scribbling down potential openers for her letter.

The old man was not through yet, however. "Please, Sir, just listen to your butler for one moment. I understand that your work is of great importance, but I've been on this earth many more years than you have, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is brief."

"...And you think I'm unaware of this?" she asked, a bitter tone creeping into her voice, her eyes fixed on the paper in front of her.

He shifted uncomfortably. He knew his boss' thoughts had wandered to her father and his untimely death, the deaths of her underlings, of how she had narrowly escaped death at the hands of her uncle all those years ago. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, no, no of course not, Sir. But you do seem to forget it now and again. You can't spend your entire life behind your desk."

"_Well I can damn well try!" _She sprung angrily from her chair and slammed her gloved hands down, scattering papers every which way, knocking a few sheets to the floor. " _Just_…Just get out of my office. Immediately."

Walter was familiar with Integra's stubborn ways. She'd always been that way, ever since she was a young girl. He was also familiar with the effect alcohol had on her. The normally-reserved Hellsing woman was quick to anger after a few glasses, and impossible to argue with. He'd have to give in, for tonight. "As you wish, ma'am. Good night, and _please_ don't stay up too late."

As he was turning to leave, he noticed one of the slips of paper that Integra had knocked to the floor. It appeared to be a personal letter of some sort. Glancing at his boss to make sure she wasn't paying attention, he snatched up the sheet and stuffed it in his breast pocket before hurrying out the door.

* * *

When Walter finally managed his way to his quarters – he had to wrap up a few minor things first – he whipped the stolen document out and scanned the top._ "Hmmmm…Looks to be an invitation of some sort…From the Queen herself!"_ His eyes dashed eagerly over the page. "_'Her Majesty the Queen of Britain requests the presence of Miss Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing at the Buckingham Palace Ballroom, for a masked ball to celebrate the recent successes of the Round Table and the Hellsing Organization. This is a white tie event, so do please dress accordingly. You are also expected to bring with you one companion…' This could be just the thing Sir Integra needs! I can find her a nice, young, upper-crust lad and -" _

A sensation of hungry curiosity overwhelmed him then, one that wasn't his own. His hair stood on end, and a chill crept over his body. "_Alucard, I can feel you in there! You're supposed to stay out of people's minds! This is none of your business!" _ he thought angrily.

A low, cold laugh sounded in his head. "_Really? And who's going to keep me out? Besides, the Master's business _is _my business."_

"_This has nothing to do with you! Now be off before I tell Sir Integra what you've done here."  
_

"_Oh? You're going to tell her I was listening in on your plan to send her off to a dance? With a man she's never met? Surrounded by her superiors and their companions, who already judge her every step _outside_ the ballroom? You're not as sharp as you used to be, old man," _the monster's voice mocked.

The mental back-and-forth was wearing on Walter's brain. He rubbed his aching head and gave a large yawn. "Listen, Alucard. It's late, and as you've graciously pointed out, I'm old. I need my rest. We can argue about this tomorrow night, but for now,_ please_ don't speak of this to Sir Integra. Promise me that."

The icy air began to gradually seep out of the room. The foreign sensation waned, and he could feel the shadows in the corners crawling away. Alucard sounded faint now, but the sly mischief in his voice was unmistakable.

"_I give you my word...But then again, what good is the word of a nosferatu?"_ The vampire's throaty chortles echoed lightly before fading into silence.

As he chased his evening painkiller with a tumbler of whiskey from his _own_ booze stash, Walter wondered that himself.


End file.
